


just fucking up situations

by adeleblaircassiedanser



Series: Radioactive [1]
Category: Veep
Genre: Accusations of Infidelity, Aftercare, Anxiety Disorder, Begging, Blow Jobs, Fingerfucking, Food Issues, Hypomania, M/M, Miscommunication, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Panic Attacks, Porn with Feelings, Safewords, Shower Sex, Undernegotiated Kink, established enemies with benefits?, feelings with later porn, fuckboys in love, idk how to tag this :/, or rather, sort of, sort of but not really? obliquely, symptoms of bipolar tw lol, what's better than this? guys being douchebags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-04 10:16:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6653890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adeleblaircassiedanser/pseuds/adeleblaircassiedanser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonah and Dan attempt several mature adult conversations. It goes about as well as you'd expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I've rewritten this twice now and I'm still not happy with it so I'm just sending it out into the void. I don't know if the tags are adequate, so if you think of anything else I should warn for let me know. Title from "Dickhead" by Kate Nash.
> 
> ETA: This fic now has an official mix: http://8tracks.com/adeleblaircassiedanser/baby-i-m-gonna-leave-you-drowning-radioactive-part-i 
> 
> Go listen if you're into that :)

“I swear to god you act this stupid on purpose. If you want to pick a fight at least come up with a good reason. Jesus.”

“You texting some random guy behind my back isn’t a good reason?”

“Okay, he’s not some twink off Grindr or something, come on. Rishi is a _friend_ I know from Reddit. He used to submit stuff to Ryantology. I know it’s hard for you to believe, but I do actually have friends.”

“Yeah, you’re a regular fucking homecoming queen, Jonad. I’m gonna sleep at my place tonight, but why don’t you invite some _friends_ over. I’ll catch you later, _bro_.”

Before Dan can get to the door, Jonah steps into his space, backs him up against the wall.

“Say what you want, but I’m not fucking brain dead. If I was cheating on you with someone, why would I show you the texts?”

“For deniability.”

“Or because I thought you would find it fucking funny, because it was a fucking meme. I’m not sexting guys off Reddit, okay? I’ve never even met him. And while we’re on this, I also don’t want to sleep with your brother, or with fucking Richard, or Gary, or with some random pedestrian who’s gonna cross the street in front of us tomorrow morning. What is it going to take for you to get this through your head?”

Dan kisses him instead of answering, and he smells really good and like this Jonah can kind of push him up against the wall like a romance novel cover. So he lets it go. For now.

-

In the ten minutes after an orgasm Dan is very pliable and only twice as guarded as a normal human being (rather than his usual five times).

“Do you know what I think, baby girl?”

“Hmm?” Dan’s eyes are even wider than usual. He almost looks innocent.

“Don’t pull that face at me. I think you were throwing that shit fit earlier because you’re stressed out,” Jonah presses a kiss into his neck- “and you want me to punish you again. Is that it?”

Dan shrugs. “It’s not _not_ it.”

“Okay, see, here’s what I think. I spanked you last time, and that was fun, but I don’t think it really worked, did it? Because that was just more attention. And you love attention, don’t you.You’re a little attention whore. So it’s positive reinforcement for bad behavior.”

He’s kind of testing the waters with this. Depending on the night, Dan might snap back at him, tell him to cut the Psych 101 bullshit. But tonight is a good night. Dan’s just waiting patiently for whatever Jonah decides.

“I think what you need is to have some privileges taken away. Right? So I think we’re going to give you some time to think about what you did. You were acting like a little kid, so you’re getting a timeout.” Jonah pauses for effect- lets Dan think to himself, _is that it_?

“And your orgasm privileges are revoked until I say so. Okay?” To punctuate it Jonah moves his hand so it’s resting over Dan’s cock through the top sheet, then gives him one little squeeze. It’s not enough to get him hard again this soon, but Dan’s hips buck up a little anyway.

“Tell me you understand.”

“I understand.”

“And whose are you?”

“Yours. I’m yours.”

“Very good. Good boy.” Jonah slaps him across the face, just once, and not too hard, and then kisses the middle of the blooming hand-print and turns out the light.

\---

In the morning, it becomes clear that Dan hadn’t taken the whole thing seriously. When Jonah doesn’t touch him, glances over him even while he’s shaving and brushing his teeth shirtless, and looks at his phone all through breakfast. Jonah’s only opened two of last night’s emails when he breaks.

“So you’re seriously just not going to talk to me?” As an answer, Jonah gets up from the table and scoops his keys off of the counter. Dan usually drives in the mornings, but today they can take separate cars. Fuck the environment.

\---

It’s a little challenging at work, although without one or the other contriving to make it happen their paths only cross a couple of times. It would be unprofessional to just walk out of a room whenever Dan came in, so Jonah settles for loudly and effusively chatting with and making eye contact with every other person in the room. He can feel Dan seething. Good. This is a fun game and everything, but Dan raising this bullshit about every single person he talks to had actually really started to piss him off.

Amy gives him a weird look, then glances at Dan but doesn’t say anything. Something actually pressing and work-related comes up and Jonah ends up having to work late. When he gets home Dan is waiting on the couch, looking apprehensive.

“I can go. Um, if you’re still mad. I wasn’t sure what the rules were.” Jonah honestly hadn’t expected that he would be able to ignore Dan for this long- if not for the distraction of work he would have ended the game hours ago. Anyway, Dan is looking gun-shy and blushing, almost ashamed.

\---

It’s a little crazy how much Dan is letting this bother him. He had been acting like kind of a jealous dick, as per use, and since they started this… game, or whatever, this arrangement a couple months ago he’s always liked the punishment. Or, if he didn’t like the actual experience of it, he liked the idea and the aftermath. When Jonah had floated the idea yesterday it had sounded pretty mild, way easier than wearing a plug all day around the West Wing or being spanked to where he can’t sit down.

The ride to work is creepily quiet with no one in the passenger seat changing the station from WAMU to the shitty alternative rock station. Work is moderately busy, and for some reason not knowing when exactly Jonah will pop up- as he always does at least a couple times a day- is really putting Dan off his game. It’s like he needs time to prep for Jonah coming in and _doing nothing_ at him.

Being angry is one thing, but Dan is used to anger involving a lot of screaming and going red in the face and maybe some drinking on the side. He’s never avoided conflict- in fact, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say he thrives on it. It’s probably still fair to say that tension makes up the lion’s share of his and Jonah’s dynamic. The sex definitely wouldn’t be as good without the aggression.

This New England WASPy, emotional withdrawal stuff, though, is on a whole different level. He’s letting it fuck up his flow so much that _Amy_ is moved to demonstrate concern.

“Are you okay? It’s just, the last time I saw you flip out over this many relatively minor fuckups in a day, I had to cab you to a British hospital.”

“I’m fine,” and Dan would do a fake smile but he knows it always turns out as a grave-like rictus.

“Is this about,” and she mouths Jonah’s name, pulling what she probably thinks is a subtle face. Dan shoots her a warning glare.

“Okay, sorry for asking. Look, you’re useless to me like this. It’s already six thirty, just go home and take a Xanax or something.”

Dan doesn’t remember the last time he left work this early, but he takes her advice anyway. He’s halfway to Jonah’s house before he remembers the underlying problem, too focused on trying to drive when he’s lightheaded, his skin too tight, his throat closing up. He considers turning around, but can’t work up the will to make a decision. Or he’s too much of a coward. Even if Jonah kicks him out, that will require acknowledging his existence.

He pops a Xanax and tries to nap on the couch, but his thoughts won’t stop racing. The longer he waits, the louder they get. By the time Jonah finally gets in it’s dark out, the MSNBC Dan put on for background noise has rolled over to reruns of that prison show, and his internal monologue is convinced. _This is it. You fucked it up and now you’re exposed._

“I can go,” Dan blurts out, brain to mouth filter eroded by the beer he’d had to wash down the Xanax. “If you’re still mad. I wasn’t sure what the rules were.”

His voice sounds super weird, like it’s someone else talking. He wants to make eye contact, to sound defiant instead of pathetic, but instead he’s just watching his hands shake.

“Hey, hey, hey. Dan, look at me. Are you crying?” Jonah crosses the room quickly; this shouldn’t be surprising, given the metahuman size of his stride, but the tone and the hands on his shoulders sneak up on him.

Dan shakes his head. This is so humiliating. He can’t trust himself to speak. _Pathetic fuckup_.

\---

The splotchiness of Dan’s face, the caved-in nature of his body language, all of it is extremely fucking alarming. Jonah’s internal monologue is just _WHAT THE FUCK,_ on repeat, but in louder and increasingly distorted tones. He moves to touch Dan without having to think about it, rubbing his upper arms as if for warmth, and then when Dan doesn’t flinch away, pulling him in. Having another grown man sort of perched on his lap like this should be awkward, or at least sexy, but instead of cracking a dirty Santa joke Jonah just runs his fingers through Dan’s hair, scratching down his scalp.

“Dan?” he tries after a minute or so. Dan just makes a wounded kind of sound, won’t even look up from where his head is buried in Jonah’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, I need you to tell me how to help you. Do you need a Xanax?”

Dan shakes his head. “Okay, how about some water? Can you drink some water for me? Have you eaten dinner?”

“Not hungry.”

“Okay, will you wait here while I get you a water?” Jonah takes his silence as a “yes” and grabs a water bottle out of the fridge. Dan drinks a bit of it, caps the bottle, and then stares at his hands. He looks a bit more like himself, now- still upset, obviously, but more mulish and less defenseless.

“Dan, can you tell me what’s going on?” _You’re scaring me_ , he doesn’t say.

“I dunno, Jonah. Do you still hate me?”

“Wait, what? I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you.”

Dan makes an incredulous face. “Seriously! Even when I hated you I didn’t, like, _hate_ you. We just fuck with each other, right?” _And then fuck each other, am I right?_ , Jonah doesn’t add because he is an adult having a serious conversation.

“No, this is different. You’re acting like… either you’re bored of me, or you’re still really fucking pissed off.”

“What, about yesterday? I was pissed for like twenty-five minutes, tops. It was a stupid fight. We fight all the time, dude.”

“Not like this. You wouldn’t even look at me.” Dan still doesn’t seem to want to make eye contact now; he’s staring at the ceiling intently.

“I thought that was, like, a thing we were doing. A bit. I wasn’t actually mad at you.”

“Yeah, well, you were doing a pretty good job of faking it. I guess I didn’t see it coming that you would be able to cut me off overnight and I’d be the one left with my dick swinging in the wind.” Dan is starting to ratchet up again, sounding more hysterical than actually angry.

“Hey. Dude. Nobody’s cutting anything off. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t realize it was bothering you that much. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Like what, exactly?”

“Like… stop? The same way you would with anything else I do to you? If it’s not fun for both of us then we should just stop, right? Safe and sane, or whatever?”

“Yeah, well, it’s a little harder than that when we’re in public and you’re not actually even _doing_ anything. What was I supposed to do, interrupt your conversations to be like, ‘pay attention to me, I’m fucking Tinkerbell and I’ll die if you ignore me’?”

Jonah pauses. “Okay, don’t freak out when I say this. But do you think we should maybe use, like, an actual safeword? You laughed at me when I said it the first time, but I’m not saying we break out the collars or… fucking sex swings or join a club or anything. If anything, we at least need to talk about limits.”

Dan looks mutinous, but Jonah pushes on. “I know, this is fucking painful for me too, okay? I’d rather have a root canal. But it’s better than me only finding out I fucked up by walking in on a panic attack. You’re usually pretty good about asking for what you want.”

Dan’s reaction can best be described as preening. “What can I say? I’m pathologically selfish.”

“Okay, so what went wrong today? You usually like being punished.”

“It was okay at first. I guess I just- usually, when you’re punishing me, I know you’re not _really_ mad. And I know the punishment is going to end, and then afterwards…” he trails off.

“Today I couldn’t tell how much you were playing or if you were really pissed off, and then it was just nothing, and it seemed like it took you forever to get home, and I just- sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. What else?”

“Just, when I get anxious, I start thinking stuff, and I fucking know it’s irrational, but I can’t stop thinking it. Like, I kept thinking you were so mad you didn’t want to fuck me anymore, and you were going to tell me to get out, and then that was making me so anxious. And then I thought about trying to fall asleep by myself and being that panicked and ending up in the ER again. And then I thought about how stupid it was to have let myself get dependent on- y’know- this. And how fucked I was if you decided it was over. All of which is fucking humiliating, and now you know about it, and I honestly wish I could have my skin flayed off Game of Thrones style rather than talk about this anymore.”

Dan moves to get up.

“Wait,” Jonah says. “It’s late. We don’t have to talk anymore. Let’s just order Seamless. I don’t want you to go, okay?”

It’s ridiculous, how difficult it is to admit that, even after everything Dan had admitted to. He still feels like admitting that he’d rather spend the night with Dan than alone is opening himself up to be the punchline, that the rug can be pulled out at any time, that this whole thing is a months-long game of gay chicken. This is insanity. They’re both on the wrong side of thirty. People their age are raising kids together.

“If you want to leave in the morning, you can go, okay? Just chill out. We can eat whatever you want.”

\---

Later, Dan turns over in bed to face him. “We could still do the other thing, though,” he says, as if they are mid-conversation rather than half asleep in Jonah’s pitch dark bedroom.

“Other thing?” Jonah croaks.

“I liked the idea… when you told me I wasn’t allowed to come. If you wanted. We could still do that.”

“Hmm.” Jonah thought about it. “What do you like about it?”

“Um… just. Meeting expectations? Jesus Christ, that sounds fucking pathetic.”

Jonah reaches his arm out, pulls Dan flush against him, kisses his neck.

“No, I want you to tell me.”

“Like, you want me to wait. And then I wait. And then you tell me I was good for you.”

“That’s really fucking hot,” Jonah says, kissing into his mouth. “Don’t be embarrassed. That’s hot as fuck. Let’s do that tomorrow. I’d say right now, but I think I’m medically asleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there will be a second chapter with the actual enjoyable sex bits in, lol. This one got away from me a bit.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning is Saturday, and for once it’s a real weekend, and no phone call comes in from work at eight in the morning. Jonah wakes up to find the room flooded with mid-morning light. He’s alone in the bed. He starts to worry- last night had been heavy, maybe Dan’s having his usual allergic reaction to human emotion and is going to ghost on him (at least for a while). On the way to the bathroom, though, he sees Dan in the living room, typing something on his laptop at a furious pace.

 

“Hey,” he tries, not sure where they’ve left things, but Dan looks up and just  _grins._

 

“Hey. Finally, you’re up. Let me just finish writing this, give me like, five minutes, okay?”

 

Jonah can’t decide what to say, so he just goes to brush his teeth. He watches his own face in the mirror and thinks, _It’s only 9 AM, did he sleep at all? What is he working on?_ He can’t bring himself to be that worried, though- he’s just so fucking relieved that Dan is still here, that Dan even seems _happy to see him_ \- thinking about it that way makes his stomach sort of flip over. He rinses his mouth out and looks up to see Dan watching him, leaning against the door frame with a hungry look in his eyes.

 

“Come here,” Dan says, but he’s moving instead, maneuvering their bodies so that Jonah is sort of crowding him into the bathroom wall, between the sink and the towel rack. Jonah leans in for the kiss, and Dan is impossibly responsive, angling his whole body flush against Jonah’s, humming, and then breaking the kiss to say “Fuck, you taste so fucking good,” and laugh.

 

“No shit,” Jonah says.

 

“I was waiting so long for you to wake up,” Dan says next, and he’s sort of rutting against Jonah’s thigh. Jonah has to reach a hand down to check, and _yep_ , he’s fully hard already, like a fucking teenager or something. In that spirit, Jonah snakes his hand down into Dan’s pajama pants and starts to jerk him off. He only gets a couple strokes in before Dan reaches down and grabs his wrist.

 

“I want to do the thing from yesterday,” he says, and he’s breathing heavily and looking at Jonah with his eyes wide and shining.

 

“Which thing,” Jonah needs him to clarify, even though he’s pretty sure he’s not referring to the panic attack or the aborted emotional discourse.

 

“The thing where I don’t come until you say I can,” Dan says, sounding a little impatient, and his hips are still sort of moving gently, and this past twenty minutes alone is gonna make top five spank bank classics for Jonah, no problem.

 

“I still get to touch you though, right?” Dan nods. “Okay, if we’re gonna do this, I need you to promise me you’ll tell me if I need to stop. Can we just use red, yellow, green?”

Dan looks torn- Jonah isn’t sure what about the idea of a safeword bothers him so much, but he’s not trying anything remotely kinky again if he isn’t going to get a little warning before the full-fledged anxiety meltdown. He waits.

 

“Fine, fine, I’m fucking green, okay? You can touch me. Whatever you want.”

 

Jonah grins. “Okay, baby, you said it. I can do whatever I want to you.” He slides down onto his knees and pulls Dan’s pants down and out of the way. He presses a kiss into Dan’s left hipbone and gets a low groan in response.

 

“You better warn me if you’re close,” he says, moving his hands so he can hold Dan’s hips still. Even on his knees, he has complete control. Jonah knows better than to mention it, but Dan’s cock is on the smaller side, at least compared to the limited sample of guys Jonah’s been with. Jonah actually considers this a bonus, because he can take it all pretty easily, in his mouth or one of his hands, and Dan is whimpering and tapping out before his jaw is even tired.

 

“Close, close, fuck, get off, get off,” Dan says urgently. Jonah pulls back, then leans in and lays kisses across the plane of Dan’s stomach, pushing his Dartmouth t-shirt up and out of the way. His body really is unfairly nice, and Jonah is tempted to compliment him even though Dan knows already and would only act insufferable. There is a very limited headspace wherein Dan can graciously accept a compliment, and this is not it. Instead, Jonah moves to mouth at Dan’s nipples, this time through the shirt, and the thing of your- the person you’re fucking- in your clothes is such a cliche. And yet, this shitty green shirt from the summer he coached at DDI is now suddenly the hottest thing Dan’s ever worn.

 

“Harder,” Dan says, and Jonah snaps out of it and reaches to pinch one nipple, then the other. He steps back and watches Dan’s hips buck against empty air.

 

\---

 

Dan is having a good day, a really Good Day, one of those days where the sun rose early and full of promise and the words just flowed from his fingers like water, no, like an electric current, like lava down the side of a fucking volcano- he wrote three stump speeches in the morning hours waiting for Jonah to wake up, just beautiful all-American filler, generic enough that he can shop them to anyone who might be willing to buy. Just in case this stint in Selina’s office ends as abruptly as it has every other time. In between the second speech (RE: A National Tragedy) and the third (RE: A Major Legislative Victory) he gives in to the buzzing, warm, staticky feeling under his skin- it’s not clear whether it’s his own eloquence that’s making his dick hard, or just his impatience for Jonah to wake up and provide him with the sex they never got around to last night, but he has a good time working himself up shamelessly on Jonah’s living room couch. He starts to get close way too quickly, though, and the memory of the command, now two days old, comes back to him in a rush. He’s not allowed to come- just the thought of it has him shivering. It’s hard to tell what’s hotter, the temptation to disobey- how would Jonah ever know, really? - or the anticipation of knowing he can meet expectations, fuck it, exceed them- he can be _so good_ \- he jerks his hands out of his lap just in time. _Fuck._ One more speech.

 

Later, over breakfast - food had been the farthest thing from his mind, but Jonah had ordered Seamless from that place with all the bread- Dan nurses a coffee and tears his slice of toast into smaller and smaller pieces. Jonah reaches a hand out to still him.

 

“Dude, stop. Are you not gonna eat anything?”

 

“I’ve literally never been less hungry in my life.” Dan is telling the whole truth, for once, for all Jonah’s looking at him in bafflement and maybe-concern. There is nowhere in him hollow or empty enough to be filled with food. He is one whole, unbroken mass of energy. If Jonah hadn’t brought it up he probably wouldn’t have even remembered that food was a thing. There are so many other things to think about. Sex, for one.

 

“Dan, are you okay? We never talked about what happened yesterday.”

 

It takes Dan a long while to even recall what Jonah is referring to. “Yesterday?”

 

“Yeah, yesterday? When I came home to find you basically rehashing the nervous breakdown you had in Ye Merrie Olde England?”

 

“Oh my god, please never do that voice again.” Thankfully, Jonah cracks a smile at that and stops looking all well-meaning school psychologist at him.

 

“Shut up. My point is, you seemed like you were legit convinced that I hated you? And you were crying?”

 

Dan blinks. On the one hand, Jonah’s words have the ring of truth to them. If there were security cameras in the living room, he’s pretty sure the playback would show him crying and generally acting like a clingy, histrionic little bitch. On the other hand, the whole thing seems like it happened to someone else several million years ago. Thinking about it, Dan has the same slightly uncomfortable, detached feeling he gets around girls he’s just dumped, or crying children. He hopes his face is doing something reassuring.

 

“Yeah, sorry about that. I’m fine now. I think I’m gonna go work out if you wanna come?”

 

“Mm… okay. No thanks,” Jonah says, and he doesn’t look quite convinced. Dan comes to stand between his legs- Jonah’s sitting on a barstool at the kitchen island, so he seems even taller than usual, his limbs inhumanly long, enveloping Dan’s body. Dan has to arch up to kiss him.

 

“You’re like a praying mantis,” Dan says, and they’re both laughing, but then he presses a little closer and whispers: “I’m good, okay? We’re good. And when I get back all smelly and disgusting the way you like you can eat me out and then fuck me. Yeah?”

 

Jonah growls.

 

“And guess what? I won’t come until you say I can.”

 

\---

 

Dan is a manipulative little shit. Knowing that, however, is not making his play any less effective. After abortively trying to watch TV or play video games for a good fifteen minutes, Jonah gives in to temptation. He figures that rubbing one out now will make it easier to keep the upper hand later, and he wants to draw out this game with Dan as long as he can. Anyway, today has been like a greatest hits of all Jonah’s Favorite Sex Things- and here, alone, in his own house, he doesn’t have to be embarrassed about them. Fuck that. He can just sit here and enjoy thinking about the way Dan’s face looks when he’s looking upwards, his laugh, the way he kisses, the way he smells when he’s been sweating (and yeah, so Jonah has some weird pubescent sexual baggage around boys’ locker rooms. Who doesn’t?), how he goes to pieces if you get your mouth on him the right way…

 

“Please, I need it,” Dan is saying later, tossing his head frantically against the shower wall.

 

“Need what?” Jonah asks, climbing back into the stall after valiantly venturing out to throw away the used condom.

 

“ _Something,_ ” Dan whines. “Your mouth again, or your fingers-”

 

“Oh, fine, you greedy baby,” Jonah acquiesces, leaning in for another sloppy, wet kiss. He slides two fingers back inside where Dan is already slick and open. He crooks his fingers gently, lazily, and listens to the soft, desperate sounds Dan is breathing into his mouth. After two orgasms in a day, he is well and truly sated. This is still incredibly sexy, don’t get him wrong- just not in an urgent way. He’s almost never this grounded or focused since he went off his ADD meds after college.

 

After maybe three or four minutes of this, though, Dan’s whining gets more insistent, his hips trying to bear down on Jonah’s hand. “How many fingers is that,” he asks, and he’s gripping Jonah’s shoulders almost as though he can’t hold up his own weight.

 

“Two. You want another one?”

 

“Fuck, yeah, please,” Dan nods, and his abs are working too, trying to get a little more friction.

 

“Beg for it.”

 

Dan doesn’t even hesitate. “ _Please,_ Jonah, please, I need another one, please fill me up, I need it, fuck, fuck-”

 

Jonah’s been skirting around Dan’s prostate, just skimming across the surface, but he adds a third finger and rubs, gentle but firm, once and then twice-

 

Dan’s eyes fly open, his nails dig into Jonah’s skin, and a wounded noise escapes his mouth.

 

“Don’t come,” Jonah says, almost mindlessly, and he’s becoming overwhelmed with this despite himself. “Tell me if you’re gonna come. God, you look so fucking good like this it’s insane.”

 

Dan’s cock twitches. “Yeah, you like that, baby? Is that from my fingers in your ass, or do you just like to hear about how hot you are. Fuck, you’re beautiful. So pretty, baby girl. Nobody else gets to see you like this, do they?”

 

Dan shakes his head, following Jonah’s eyes, looking flushed and sex-stupid. “Yours,” he says, and his voice is _wrecked._

 

“Mine. Fucking right, you’re mine. You’re so good for me, baby. You wanna come?”

 

Dan makes a sound, but one which is not easily construed as either affirmative or negative. Jonah pulls his hand out, rinses it a bit under the stream- still warm, shout out to high-efficiency water heaters, the real MVP - and then uses one hand to slide through Dan’s hair, pulling at it a little, and the other to cup his jaw as Jonah licks into his mouth hungrily, crowding Dan into the tiled wall until their bodies are flush against each other, skin on skin on skin. “Fuck, I want you so bad,” Jonah says. “Can you be good for me a little while longer? You’re so perfect- gorgeous, baby.”

 

The words are starting to sound like nonsense, but the intent must be getting across because Dan is nodding eagerly, though he’s still looking a bit out of it. Jonah tugs on his hair once more for good measure.

 

Jonah gets them both toweled off and into bed, and he keeps running his fingers through Dan’s hair as they watch House of Cards, Dan too quiet to add his usual running commentary or to complain about the fluffy disaster that will be his hair in the morning if Jonah doesn’t lay off.

 

Tomorrow will be a lazy Sunday, Jonah thinks. He’ll finish Dan off in the morning, maybe with a beej, and he won’t bring up the fact that this is the longest amount of time they’ve ever spent under one roof, and that it’s actually been kind of nice. He definitely will not bring up the fact that he is catching feelings in a major way; in fact, he won’t even think it, because that is how you ruin things.

 

“Okay, but imagine Selina pushing Leon West in front of the Metro,” Dan says, and Jonah laughs way too hard.

 

\---

 

Of fucking course, on Sunday morning, they wake up to find the world’s gone to shit. (Again.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is nothing but filth and sin, somehow it's two thousand words long, and it's not even done!!! I blame @rillrill and Discourse Lowering Anon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah? You like it?”
> 
> “Yeah. I like you like this. I love- you’re so into it. It is fucking hot, okay? You win. Fuck. Please let me come.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The filth intensifies.

The flooding has been going on for almost two weeks, starting in Missouri and Illinois and traveling down the Mississippi. It was pretty bad, everyone agreed, lots of pathos-laden images of kids and pets on inflatable rafts in suburban streets and what have you. A few governors had declared states of emergency, but it hadn’t really seemed like an _emergency_ emergency on Friday afternoon. But then Tropical Storm Skylar, only a Category 2, had stalled out over Houston for some complicated meteorological reason. After two days of torrential rains and flash flooding, one of the levees or the dams or some such had ruptured, and unleashed a deluge of fuck all over Beyonce’s hometown. That would be bad, but not fuckpocalypse bad, except that somehow because Selina is the president this is all her fault. She’s being attacked from the right, with congressional Republicans somehow digging up the fact that the storm was supposed to be named Selina before she had it hastily changed a few years back, and worse, a pattern of FEMA funding in state of emergencies correlating with which states had backed her in the presidential election. On the left, the proto-commie liberals in her own party are complaining about global warming and her cozy ties with oil and the lack of investment in public infrastructure. The whole thing is a PR nightmare, and meanwhile it won’t. stop. fucking. raining.

 

So Dan is way too busy, really, to pay any attention to a text from Jonah which just states the room number of a particular West Wing supply closet. He will almost certainly be missed if he disappears, even for a second. He already probably looks fucked-out enough as it is, with his hair in this sorry state and his eyes wild with lack of sleep. He feels it, too, sort of edgy and raw. He goes to the closet.

 

“Five minutes,” he warns.

 

“Fine, yeah,” Jonah says. “Fuck, come here,” and then a kiss, open-mouthed and sloppy and far better than it has any right to be.

 

“I missed you,” Jonah says next, and Dan really means to point out that that’s nonsensical, it’s been barely six hours since they woke up in the same bed, but he’s overwhelmed with the red-hot coiled spring potential of his cock rutting against Jonah’s thigh, way too fucking good. How can everything feel this good? It’s all heightened, Jonah’s smell and way he can contain Dan so easily just by crowding him against a wall, make him feel small in a good way, and the way his eyes track Dan, always so focused-

 

Jonah, the douchebag, makes a big show of checking his smartwatch and saying “T minus three minutes, can’t believe how worked up you are already,” and licking a big, disgusting stripe up Dan’s neck with his tongue, like an animal. Dan shivers and feels his hips jerk forward without his permission.

 

“You want to come like this, don’t you? In your Brooks Brothers slacks, grinding on my fucking leg like a middle schooler in the middle of a fucking workday,” and Dan can’t even argue, he _does_ want to come like this, and he’s fucking close to doing it, too-

 

“So desperate, baby girl, so hot for me- ohp! Time.” Jonah grins and steps away, making a big show of patting down his pants for wrinkles. Dan feels so acutely frustrated that for an embarrassing moment he thinks he may cry. His brain has slowed to a crawl reminiscent of Beltway traffic as he considers the possibilities. He could beg Jonah to let him finish, but this is his _workplace_ and somehow that feels like a bridge too far, humiliation-wise. Also, he can’t come in these pants like a fourteen-year-old, because he has to work today and might even be talking to press later. So he needs to calm the fuck down. It would help if he could stop his eyes from fixating on one oddly sexual detail after another- the size of Jonah’s wrists, his exposed collarbone where his oxford is unbuttoned (probably one button lower than is really acceptable for the workplace), the shape of his hardon in his slacks even as he’s looking all smug, leaning against a rack of printer paper.

 

A few deep breaths later and Dan finds himself able to smirk.

 

“Guess I’ll see you at home, big guy.”

 

\---

 

Sunday night Jonah escapes first, him and Richard being deemed nonessential around quarter to midnight. He starts out waiting for Dan on the bed, still half-dressed in his t-shirt and slacks, but he crashes out with the news still running in the background and only wakes up to the sound of Dan turning the lights off and crawling up the bed. Jonah makes a sort of humming sound in greeting, opening one eye so he can reach an arm out- Jonah fucking loves spooning, and on nights like this when Dan is subdued from sex or spanking or just sleepiness, he can actually get away with it. He presses a closed-mouth kiss to the nape of Dan’s neck.

 

“You’re so fucking gay for me,” Dan mumbles. Jonah bites his shoulder in retaliation.

 

“Go the fuck to sleep, asshole.”

 

\---

 

Monday morning starts crazy early, prepping Selina for all the morning shows, and it’s hectic for hours after that but by four p.m. the rain has stopped and even the opportunistic critics on their ~~soapboxes~~ crates seem to be flagging. Jonah takes advantage of the lull to send a text.

 

To: Dan 4:06:03 PM EST

_We’re done here. Tell Mike you’re going home._

From: Dan 4:06:30 PM EST

_??????_

To: Dan 4:07:10 PM EST

_That’s an order. Meet me at the car._

 

Dan sends back a snap of his face looking unimpressed, but he’s on Floor 2 of the parking garage six minutes later.

 

“It’s a testament to how exhausted I really am that I’m going to allow myself to be seen leaving here, with you, in that.” He makes a derogatory hand gesture at the Cube.  

 

“You wanna come tonight or what, princess? Shut up and get in the car.”

 

Dan is asleep with his head leaned against the window by the time Jonah pulls out onto the road. When they get back to Jonah’s place they both sleep so hard that it’s totally dark by the time they wake up.

 

Jonah brings up the sexy elephant in the room while they’re eating a dinner of cereal and beer.

 

“So, do you want to talk scenarios?” Dan looks at him curiously. “It’s been five days. You’ve been really, really good but I know you can’t hold out anymore.”

 

Dan bristles. “Fuck you I can’t. I have self control you can’t even dream of.”

 

Jonah reaches out a hand to skim up Dan’s left thigh. “Dude, are you really gonna argue _against_ me giving you the best orgasm of your life? Is that where we’re at right now?”

 

Dan’s opening his knees, arching forward into the touch, all in one seamless movement, and he’s already visibly turned on, his mouth falling open, his breathing pattern changing. _Christ,_ this rush these past few days, it’s been like coke- it’s criminally easy to get him worked up like this, Jonah hasn’t really been able to hold another thought in his head for more than about two and a half minutes at a time, and the best part is every time they made eye contact he could tell Dan was thinking exactly the same thing.

 

“Scenarios,” Dan prompts him impatiently.

 

“Yeah, so I was thinking. I could finish you in my mouth, that was my original plan before Hurricane Clusterfuck hit.”

 

Dan hums, considering. “I thought about that. That whole junior high style dry humping thing was surprisingly hot, too.”

 

“True. Or- I was thinking- you could fuck me.” Dan’s look is surprised, maybe excessively so. It’s not like they’ve never done it that way, though it has been less frequent lately, since all this weird Christian Grey mindfuck stuff started. “I mean, or not, it was just-”

 

“Fuck yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”

 

“Take your pants off,” Jonah commands, and it’s still such a nice change of pace how easily Dan just… _obeys_.

 

“Bedroom,” he says, and tosses the dirty dishes in the sink. He should run water on them so they won’t be a caked on mess in the morning, but right now he just doesn’t give a fuck.

 

Dan is just standing there, kind of leaning against the dresser, and his cock is hard and red, poking out of the waistband of his underwear, and as Jonah gets closer he realizes-

 

“Jesus fuck, you’re soaking wet,” and it’s true, more than usual, the whole y-fronts damp and creasing. Jonah pulls them down for Dan to step out of. “Wet like a girl for me, aren’t you?”

 

Dan nods and leans up for a kiss. Jonah lets himself get lost in it for a bit, while Dan unbuttons his shirt and pulls it down over his shoulders.

 

“How do you want me,” Dan asks, looking up through those fucking eyelashes, and suddenly Jonah feels like he’s the one who’s desperate, overwhelmed with want.

 

“I want you to fuck me. I want to watch you do it. And I don’t want you to come until I do,” Jonah warns, although it’s not much of a warning given that he feels like he’s on a hair trigger already.

 

Dan turns to get the lube out of the dresser drawer. He raises an eyebrow. “No, I’ll do it,” Jonah says, because one of Dan’s 6 Sex Habits for Making Work Contacts and Influencing People involves taking way too long with the prep. Anyway, he won’t say this but with how wet and small-to-average Dan is he could probably take him dry without that much trouble.

 

They try a couple of different configurations, but they end up with Dan standing on the edge of the bed, Jonah laid out on his back. If he pushes up on his elbows Dan can sort of lean in to meet his mouth, but they’re not really kissing, just sort of breathing back and forth as Dan’s hand works him over, smooth and practiced.

 

“You close?” Dan asks, and his voice sounds incredibly tight.

 

“Yeah, shit, you’re so good- talk to me. Do you wanna come?”

 

Dan makes a broken-off sound, halfway to a laugh. “I don’t know what you want me to say. This feels so fucking good it’s crazy.”

 

“Yeah? You like it?”

 

“Yeah. I like you like this. I love- you’re so into it. It is fucking hot, okay? You win. Fuck. Please let me come.”

 

“Soon, baby, I promise. I’m so close. You’re being so good. You’re so perfect. Good girl, just like that, right there-”

 

Dan’s hips stutter at that, and he makes this anguished, choked sound and sort of slaps Jonah’s side, almost involuntarily, and he’s apologizing, “Fuck, sorry, fuck me,”

 

But the sudden little surge of pain was enough, and Jonah watches his come get everywhere, all over Dan’s torso and his own, and instead of gross it seems almost like a _rite,_ and he’s worshipful on the exhale. “Come for me, baby. I wanna see you,” and Dan shuddering and coming apart is so beautiful that he wants to say things, wants to make promises, so it’s lucky that Dan shouts out and then moans, a long extended breath like he’s trying to bring himself down to Earth.

 

He opens his eyes but still looks a little lost, shell-shocked and open. “Come here,” Jonah says, his voice cracking. He ties the condom off and throws it- doesn’t even look to see where it lands, just gathers Dan to him so their whole bodies are touching. “You okay?”

 

Dan smiles, and it’s a small smile but it’s weirdly genuine- no smirk and no artifice to it.

 

“Really good.”

 

“Yeah? Worth the wait?” Dan nods.

 

It’s funny, given the rate that he spouts bullshit most of the time, that when he gets like this Dan actually sort of shuts the fuck up. On instinct, Jonah offers two of his fingers, playing with Dan’s swollen lower lip. There’s a little bit of come still on them, but he feels like this might be a little weird- more of a foreplay thing, maybe- but Dan happily opens up, licking them clean and then pulling back. Jonah feels oddly disappointed for all of ten seconds, until Dan adjusts himself so he’s leaning back on Jonah’s chest and pulls his arm back around so he can get at them again.

 

Now that Dan’s looking away, Jonah allows himself a small grin of triumph. He’d noticed that Dan had a bit of an oral fixation, even outside of being performatively good at giving head, even outside of purely sexual motives. He just seems to like having something in his mouth, a pen or his own fingers troubling his lips or sometimes the sleeve of his shirt after a spanking. It _soothes_ him, though Dan would hate that word, making it sound like he’s some kind of fussy adult baby. Nonetheless, it’s true. You can practically feel the contentment coming off of him in waves.

 

It’s a fairly comfortable silence, both of them now just rested enough that their circadians are fucked and sleep seems far away at 2 AM on a Tuesday morning. Jonah is turning a lot of thoughts over in his head, but paradoxically putting words to how fucking perfect this scenario is for him, how it’s hitting 102% of his buttons, would be the quickest way to fuck it up, so it ends up being Dan that breaks it, pulling off of Jonah’s pruning fingers with a pop. He cranes his neck around to just meet Jonah’s eyeline.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey yourself.”

 

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm pretty proud of this, it's the longest fic I've ever actually completed. I have approximately 90234985 more ideas for this pairing every day at work and you can see a lot of them at @rillrill's blog jonahryan.tumblr.com. I may write some follow-up one shots or something to this eventually if y'all are interested.


End file.
